by Jessica Beck
“Very good,” Momma said approvingly as she settled back down. “Now tell us, exactly when did Hank arrive, and when did he leave? Be as precise as possible, please.”
Sasha told her that as well without any protest.
Momma stood. “Excellent. Thank you for your cooperation.” She was clearly about to add something else when she obviously changed her mind and beckoned to me. “Let’s go, Suzanne. We’ve taken up enough of Mrs. Usher’s time.”
“It’s just Sasha,” she corrected her automatically.
“Indeed,” Momma said, and we left her a little less confident that she’d been when we’d first arrived.
Before we made it out the door, Sasha asked meekly, “This is just between us, right?”
“Right,” I said, and then we left her standing there wondering if I’d been telling the truth or not.
I didn’t feel any guilt from answering her so sarcastically. If she had a sleepless night or two because of our conversation, maybe she’d reevaluate her life and work things out with her husband.
Or not.
I wasn’t her confessor or her marriage counselor, but I’d been cheated on myself once upon a time.
Pain was pain, though, and even though I didn’t know Harry, I suspected that he deserved better.
Out in the car, I told my mother, “Wow, I’ve got to hand it to you. That was amazing.”
Momma dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Truthfully, it was manipulative and it was beneath me,” she protested. “I never would have done it if it hadn’t been my sister’s murder we were investigating.”
That took a little wind from my sails, but I knew that some people weren’t cut out for what I did, and there was no shame in that.
“What were you about to say to her there at the end?”
“Was it that obvious?” Momma asked, and I noticed that her hands were shaking a little as she started the car and began to drive away.
“Maybe not to anyone else, but it was pretty clear to me,” I said.
“I was about to lecture her on the sanctity of marriage, if you can imagine that,” Momma said. “She’s not only toying with Hank and whoever else she’s carried this flirting on with, but she’s showing her husband a massive amount of disrespect. If she’s that unhappy with her marriage, she should leave him and start a new life with someone else or even on her own, but I suspect that will never happen, at least not of her own volition.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked, fascinated by how my mother’s mind worked.
“It’s clear, isn’t it? If she were going to leave Harry, she would have done so by now.” Momma paused, and then after a moment she added, “I’ve never met the man, but I feel nothing but sympathy for him. Odd, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think it’s odd at all,” I said. “You have a compassionate spirit.”
“Among other things,” Momma said, clearly trying to shrug our last interview off. “At least we’ve finally made some progress. There’s no way that Hank could get from Meredith Pence to Sasha’s and back again, manage to install that trip wire, and then remove it later.”
“Agreed,” I said.
“Why does it feel so small eliminating one of our suspects, Suzanne? I expected to feel more triumphant about it than I do.”
“That’s because we haven’t found the real killer yet,” I assured her, “but we just took a big step forward, and that’s a very good thing indeed.”
“So then, it’s on to the next one,” Momma said.
“Upward and onward,” I agreed.
Momma hesitated longer than necessary at the next stop sign. “What’s wrong?”
“It might help if I knew the name of the next person we need to speak with.”
“It just might at that,” I said with a slight smile. At least my mother had gotten a touch of her sense of humor back, and that was never a bad thing. “Drive to Greta’s place. I want to see the housekeeper in her natural environment.”
“I would, but I don’t know where she lives.”
“Fortunately, I do,” I said as I called her address up on my phone. “I looked her up last night.”
As I gave my mother directions to her place, we chatted about how we were going to approach Greta, but in the end, by the time we got there we still didn’t have any real idea of what to say.
“Should I circle the block until we come up with something?” Momma asked.
“No, just park right out front,” I said.
“But we don’t know what we’re going to say,” my mother protested.
“Sometimes that’s half the fun,” I answered.
“I can’t imagine that ever being true,” Momma replied, but she did as I’d directed, and we were soon standing on Greta Miles’ front porch.
The only problem was that my mind was a complete blank.
We really were going to fly by the seats of our pants.
I just hoped that we were up to it.
“What are you two doing here?” Greta asked when she answered her front door. She lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of town, and the single-story home was run down, in bad need of a coat of paint and a good lawn mowing. Even Greta herself was rather unkempt, wearing a dressing gown and some kind of towel contraption on her head.
“We’ve had warmer welcomes in our lives,” I said. “We’d like a second to chat, if you don’t mind.”
Greta glanced back inside, and then she stepped out to join us on the ragged front porch. “I have a moment, but my show is coming back on soon, and I can’t miss it.”
“What are you watching?” I asked, trying to engage her a little before we started grilling her.
“Nothing all that special,” she replied.
So much for breaking the ice.
“Can you tell us more about how exactly you found my aunt?” I asked her.
She shivered a little at the mention of my late aunt. “To be honest with you, I’ve been trying to put it out of my mind. Do I really have to go through that again? The chief made me do it, but I don’t see why on earth you would want to hear about it from me.”
I was at a loss for an explanation myself, but fortunately, Momma was with me. “I know that it had to have been traumatic for you, but remember, I just lost my sister. It might give me a little peace if you could describe what you found to us. Could you do that as a personal favor to me, please?”
Greta frowned, and finally she spoke. “I don’t know how it’s going to help you, but I suppose I could do it for you, as a favor to Jean.”
“May we all sit inside?” Momma asked.
Without thinking, Greta said, “Why not? I don’t see what it could hurt.”
The three of us walked into the living room straight from the front porch. There were newspapers on the floor, a few cereal boxes near the couch, and shoes and clothes everywhere. This was how the cleaning lady lived when she was home alone?
She must have caught me sizing the place up. “Sorry about the mess, but this is my day off, so I don’t do a lick of work here. I figure I spend enough time cleaning up after other folks to worry too much about my place. The only time I ever give it a really good scrub is when Anna comes over.”
“You two are good friends, aren’t you?”
“I’d do anything for her,” Greta said.
That certainly encompassed a great many things, and I had to wonder if it might have included being an accessory before and after the fact in a murder. I decided not to ask her that particular question, though. Instead, I just stored her comment away in the back of my mind and pushed forward.
“Did you happen to see Anna on your way to or from my sister’s home that day?” Momma asked.
“Sure, but just enough to wave to her as she walked in through her front gate as I was on my way to work. Like I said, I didn’t want to be late, so I didn’t have time to stop and chat.”
“Was there anything unusual you might have spotted when you found my aunt?” I asked her.
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p; “No, until I saw her at the bottom of the stairs, everything was normal. I was due there at ten, and I showed up on the dot. Punctuality is important, you know.”
I refrained from reminding her that so was cleanliness.
“Was the front door locked or unlocked when you got there?” I asked her.
She squinted, no doubt deep in thought. “The police chief asked me the same thing. I honestly don’t remember.”
It wasn’t all that long ago. How could she have forgotten such a vital detail, given what she’d found soon afterward? “Think hard, Greta. Did you have to use your key to her place or not?”
“I’m not sure.” Greta looked at me quizzically. “Why is it that important to you?”
She had me there. How could I explain why I wanted to know if the killer had locked up after himself after he’d removed the fishing line from the baluster? “Tell me this, then. Did you usually have to use your key to get in?”
“Oh, yes, Miss Jean was always very particular about locking up after herself.” Greta frowned again and played with her right hand, pretending to move it into a nonexistent pocket. “The door was unlocked. It had to have been. I’m sure of it. Isn’t it odd that I didn’t realize it until just now?”
“How can you be so sure of it now?” Momma asked.
“Because I remember now that I didn’t try the knob before I used my key. I turned it in the lock and then I tried the door, but it wouldn’t open. I’d done that once before, thinking that I was unlocking something when in fact I was locking it, instead. Has that ever happened to you?”
“Once or twice,” I said with encouragement. I was trying to show her that we were on her side, when in fact, the only side we were really on was my late aunt’s. Momma didn’t comment, so I asked, “So, after you locked the door by accident, and then unlocked it, did you see anything out of the ordinary?”
“You mean up until I found your aunt on the floor?” she asked.
“Yes, up until then.”
Frowning again, I could see Greta straining to remember. I just hoped that she didn’t hurt herself with the effort. “No, not a thing. I found Miss Jean, called the police, and then I ran outside and waited for someone to show up.”
“You didn’t stay with my sister’s body?” Momma asked her pointedly.
“I just couldn’t do it. I’m sorry. When I tried to check for a pulse, she was cold. Besides, from the angle she was laying, I knew she wasn’t going to just get up. Even if I’d found a pulse, I couldn’t have done anything to help her. I never took any training or anything. All that I’ve done my whole life is clean.”
“We’re sure that you did everything that you could. Tell us what happened next,” I said in a soothing voice, trying to get her back on track. “How long did the police take to show up?”
“That was the thing. It wasn’t two minutes before one came flying up the hill with his lights on and his siren blaring.”
“Well, Maple Hollow is a small town. I wouldn’t think that it would take that long for someone to show up when a body has been found,” I said.
“That’s the thing, though; it usually takes them awhile to show up, regardless of the reason why they’ve been called,” she said.
“Was it Chief Kessler or one of his other officers who arrived first on the scene?” Momma asked. It was a good question, and I was impressed that Momma had thought to ask it.
“It was the chief himself,” Greta said. “Now that you mention it, that was kind of odd, too. He’s hardly ever the first one to show up anywhere, from the way I hear it. He likes his people to size things up before he gets there himself.”
This was getting to be interesting. I had to wonder if it was coincidence that had brought Chief Kessler out to my sister’s place, or if he’d gotten there first on purpose?
“Greta, did you happen to go up the stairs at any point that day?” Momma asked.
“No, ma’am. I told you every step I took inside that house, and that’s the truth.”
Momma nodded, and then she must have noticed something that I had missed. Sitting on the table beside Greta was a crystal vase, something that looked as out of place there as a clown nose in a wedding photograph. Greta’s gaze followed my mother’s, and I saw her face redden for an instant.
Momma said coldly, “I recognize that piece.”
“It was a gift,” Greta said quickly, the words rushing out of her. “Your sister wanted me to know how much she thought of the work I did for her.”
“It was a gift indeed,” Momma said. “I got it for her for Christmas two years ago myself.”
That was why my mother had spotted it.
Greta blushed even more. “I’m sure she loved it. When Miss Jean gave it to me, she told me to cherish it, and now I’ll hold it even dearer.”
Momma’s gaze started scrutinizing the place a great deal closer, and no one was more aware of it than the housekeeper. She stood abruptly. “I just remembered my beauty shop appointment. I need to go.”
Momma and I stood, and we were soon rushed out of Greta’s home. The door slammed quickly behind us, and I knew that was the last time we’d ever be allowed inside the housekeeper’s home.
“Sorry about that,” Momma said. “I couldn’t help it. That was all my fault, wasn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“When I spotted that vase, I should have kept my mouth shut. You could have gotten more out of her, but I blew the opportunity.”
“Momma, it’s perfectly understandable why you were shocked to see it there. There’s no need to apologize.”
As we walked back to her car, Momma said, “For the record, there’s no way under the sun that Jean gave that vase away, and certainly not to her housekeeper.”
“Aunt Jean already suspected that Greta was a thief,” I reminded Momma. “We’re just trying to figure out if she’s a murderer, too.”
“How do you propose that we go about that?” she asked me.
“We follow up on the new lead she gave us about Anna. After that, then it’s time to have another chat with the chief of police.”
“What did she say about Anna? That she spotted her outside that morning?” Momma asked.
“Not just that, but the fact that she was going in through her front gate as Greta was driving past. Think about it, Momma. It’s possible that Anna was coming from Aunt Jean’s house, where she removed the fishing line before anyone saw it.”
“On the other hand, going by that theory of proximity, the fact that the police chief answered the call so promptly might mean that he’d been inside removing the line himself before anyone else could discover what he’d done.”
“That’s a good point,” I said. “We also can’t forget that Greta herself could have removed it before she called the police in the first place. After all, she’s the only one we know with any certainty who was actually in the house that day.”
“That’s true, too. I suppose that Adam Jefferson could have done it as well. There wasn’t much of his alibi that can be confirmed one way or the other, so he has to stay on our list as well. Even if he was out for a run as he claimed to be, we don’t know that he wasn’t running near here, do we? That would give him the opportunity to dash up the stairs, remove the line, and be on his way before anyone discovered what had happened.”
“There’s got to be a way to break through this logjam,” I said. “I think we’re just going to have to push these people even harder until one of them breaks.”
“My, we’re not making ourselves very popular in this town, are we?” she asked.
“We have to remember that we’re not trying to win any popularity contests. As long as we can keep the slamming doors to a minimum, I think that we’ll be okay.”
“Then it’s off to Anna’s we go,” Momma said.
Chapter 21
We were nearing Anna’s home when my cellphone rang.
“It’s Jake,” I told Momma happily, and then I answered his call.
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�Hey, Suzanne,” he said. He sounded absolutely beat.
“Are you okay, Jake?”
“I’m not, but I will be. I finally got my bad guy, so I’m on my way in a few minutes.”
“Did you get any sleep at all last night?” I asked, concerned with him driving while he was sleep-deprived.
“Maybe a little,” he said wearily, which probably meant none at all.
“Jake Bishop, you are not driving all the way to Maple Hollow on little or no sleep. You need to find a place to rest for tonight, and you can come here first thing in the morning. Nothing’s going to happen until then, anyway.”
“I told you, I’m fine,” he said as he stifled a yawn.
“You big fat liar,” I said with a hint of laughter in my voice. “Seriously, there’s nothing you can do here at the moment. Momma and I have things under control.”
“Do we really?” Momma asked me softly.
I shook my head and grinned, and then I shrugged.
“Did your mother just say something?” Jake asked.
Louder this time, Momma told him, “Get some rest, dear. You’re no good to us if you’re exhausted, or if you’re in an accident on the way.”
“I probably wouldn’t have put it quite that way,” I said, “but it’s true enough. How close are you to your apartment in Raleigh?”
“It’s about a four-hour drive from here, and then it’s another four to you. If I leave right now, I can make it by midnight.”
“If you get here at all,” I said. “I’ve reconsidered my earlier suggestion.”
“Does that mean that I can come there now?”
“I don’t even want you driving any more this afternoon. Find a hotel room right where you are and sleep until morning. If you’re here before four tomorrow afternoon, I’ll know that you didn’t do what I asked you to do.”
“How about if I get there by noon?” he asked, and I knew that I’d won this particular argument.
“Let’s compromise. Two PM tomorrow, and not another minute sooner.”
“Sure, I guess that I can do that. Are you positive that it’s okay if I do this? If something happens to you or your mother while I’m sleeping somewhere across the state, I’d have a hard time ever forgiving myself.”
